


Convergence.

by aphn_un



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game), Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Get ready for B-52 being an amgery boy and Nonna being a god damn downer, I hope y'all are ready because I'm sure as hell not, Part 2, Those of you who are reading for Hetalia. Please read part one of this particular work!, here we go lads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-11-07 17:50:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphn_un/pseuds/aphn_un
Summary: Day five hundred and twenty one since Nonna’s departure.





	1. Chapter 1

Do not till too big a field,  
Or weeds will ramp it.  
Do not love a distant man,  
Or heart’s pain will chafe you.

-

From the moment I snapped open my eyes, I heard it sound somewhere deep within my head. It was cold and straightforward, as it had always been.

**“Vitals: Operational.  
** Location calculated: Gloriville.  
B-52 Cocktail, stand by for orders.” 

I ignored it outright, as was the norm for me now. Instead I chose to sit up and reach around for the uniform shirt I had left hanging on its peg. As I dressed myself – like always – my fingers performed their routine flutter against my neck, the tips probing about until they felt the holes left by her bullets.

_Day five hundred and twenty one since Nonna’s departure._

Despite the morbidity, the familiarity of those bullet holes calmed me, and gave me that last little push I needed to cast aside the last of my programming, and make my way steadily through to the kitchen.

Like on most mornings, the Madam Attendant’s kitchen was deserted.

No, not completely deserted. There was one person there, and he sat solemnly at the table, holding a teacup in his hands, a teacup that I could see was filled with fresh tea, definitely fresh, there was steam rising from it. He was dressed in the same manner and uniform as I was, it had been a while since I had seen one of our number who wasn’t.  
As I squeezed my way out of the pantry door he shifted, showing that he had heard me, but he chose not to greet me, not at first. I could understand this decision, his mind was elsewhere no doubt.

_Day five hundred and twenty since the Enhanced Fallen formerly known as Peking Duck had taken refuge in Gloriville’s waters._

_Day five hundred and one since my kind had been permanently stationed here to keep the beast at bay._

“Good morning B-52.” He finally spoke, his crisp and professional manner seemed curiously out of place this morning, as if he had forgotten how to use it. “Is everything working as it should?”

“Affirmat – ah, yes, Pudding. Aside from the aching.” I replied. My hand reached up to touch the bullet holes at my neck once again. It was a habit I needed to break, an urge I needed to ignore. “Though I am due a check up with Chang Nǚshì. I was planning to visit her after my daily rounds; she will be able to tell me what is wrong.”

“Ah, of course.” Pudding said, turning to face me at last. He had hidden the bags under his eyes behind a pair of tinted glasses. I wondered why. “If anybody will be able to help, it’s Yan’er. Give her my best, won’t you? Ah, and B-52? Be careful today, winter is on its way and it’s much colder outside than it has been recently, emergence could be imminent.”

I nodded jerkily – no, softer, slower. “What do you propose we do?”

My fellow Food Soul pursed his lips, an action that I had mimicked numerous times over the last five hundred days. It was an expression I liked, and had found that it was useful for scaring away some of the smaller Fallen that lurked down Gloriville’s claustrophobic back alleys.

**Perform action: Purse lips?  
Negative.**

“What we did last time I suppose,” he replied dully, drumming his fingernails against the china cup, the noise was a musical one, it was a noise I liked, “we should try to persuade more people to leave, form a barrier as best we can and hope that the great beast will go back to sleep once the weather warms up.

I watched Pudding rub his forehead with the palm of his head, a common sign of stress. I would’ve offered him a hot beverage if he hadn’t already made himself one. I was unsure as to other methods of comfort.

“I just hope that more people get the message and leave this time. Just because he is in hibernation now does not mean he will be in that state forever.”

“Humans will do as they see fit.” I replied solemnly. “They have free will, Pudding.”

Pudding made a strange noise. A snort perhaps, it was something I had never managed to do properly. “As do we. But they also have brains and common sense, even if they do not always use them.” 

A joke. Was that a joke? I thought it was best to smile anyway. Many people had told me that my smile was a nice one, though I was still learning exactly when and where to use it.

“If all goes to plan, I will be back here at the usual time.”

Pudding shook his head – perhaps his aim was to clear it – and emptied his cup out into the sink. I wondered why, that had been a fresh beverage.

“I shall see you then.” He said, and in his voice I could hear his desire to end the conversation, so I let it lie. Pudding had not been fond of talk for a long time now, it was as if somebody had located and activated his pause button.

I kept on going over my pause button thought as I left, as I moved through the narrow streets and let people’s curious gazes slide past me. It was a metaphor, that was what Brownie always called them, and though I had been practicing and using them in my speech, I still did not think I was any good at metaphors.

-

The docks were cold and grey, I’d never liked them much, and after seeing Nonna leave on its cold and grey waters, I liked them even less.  
Pudding was right, it was much colder than it had been recently, and the air was wet with a light rain; everything about the weather on this particular day was detrimental to my performance. The cold slowed my movements; the moisture crept into any joint that hadn’t been patched up.

I was in a terrible mood upon my arrival, but at least Gloriville’s streets were quiet and free from Fallen this morning. I completed my rounds quickly and efficiently.

The dock was nowhere near as deserted, in fact it was swarming with Food Souls, many of whom I had grown acquainted with – no – befriended, over the last five hundred and twenty one days. I could see one of them now, standing impatiently beside his friend, foot tapping and his arms crossed, a deeply displeased look on his face. They too wore the same uniforms we had all been assigned.

I moved over to them, the grey air around me filling with steam as I greeted the smaller Soul.

“Brownie. You’re out early today, how are you both?”

Brownie, a Magic Soul whose line was highly sought after by Attendants and the Guild alike, made a tutting noise with his tongue at my question. The anger didn’t suit him, I’d told him that quite a few times, but he still continued to wear his frustration on his face. 

“We’re one man down, that’s how we are.” He said heavily, gesturing to his companion with a flick of one finger. “We were meant to have your Tempura today too, but apparently he has more important things to do than protecting Gloriville. Oh, Napoleon, please do stop that giggling, it isn’t funny!”

The second Soul, a Magic Soul of the Napoleon Cake line, grinned from the crate he had chosen as a seat. He was approximately an inch taller than Brownie, and specialised in infusing old human weaponry with his own magic, these weapons were often muskets. 

“Sorry, Brownie, I just can’t help but see the irony in it.” He laughed, jerking his chin in an upwards motion towards me, he had told me that it was a type of greeting. “That Defence guy is twice our size, yet _he’s_ the one who chickens out? It’s mental, and yet you’ve got humans like your Attendant dragging herself down here every day insisting that she can fill in for him.”

“Size has nothing to do with power, Napoleon.” Brownie sighed, and he pressed his fingers to his forehead, something that I had learned was a sign of fatigue, frustration and despair. “You know this.”

“That sentiment kinda falls flat when we’ve got Bifty standing right there.”

I held up my hands; something Nonna had done when she was still here. It was something one did when they wanted to be left out of things, or so I hoped.

“Do not bring me into this,” I said, remembering to smile awkwardly as I spoke, to ensure the pair of them that I was not angry, “how many boats do you have to guide today?”

“A load, but it’s not like they’ll hang around for us.” Napoleon Cake replied, leaning forward rest his chin on Brownie’s shoulder. Brownie did not look pleased at all. “Tons of them will just go across the water anyway, doesn’t matter what we say. They reckon it’s safe, the thing hasn’t woken up for so long, a bunch of them think the danger has passed!”

“But he could wake up at any time.” Brownie added, his voice had risen a pitch, was he excited by something? Tone was a difficult subject for me to understand. “He’s done it before and he could do it again, it isn’t as if this was years ago, people are too eager for their own good.”

I glanced out towards the water, choosing to tune out the rest of the conversation between Brownie and Napoleon. Floating on its surface; I could see the ring of rafts the Guild had set up around the dark mass hidden beneath the waves, the form of the hibernating Enhanced Fallen. I could also see the Food Souls tasked to patrol the ring, stepping nimbly from raft to raft; they worked in shifts, though I had never been allowed to assist. Something about my size, or my weight, I couldn’t remember which.

I prodded suddenly at some protrusion in the pocket of my shirt, it rustled beneath my fingertip. Paper.

_Stupid._

Something shifted quite suddenly within my chest, a _tug_ and a _pull_ of discomfort, a blockage? Something that had jammed? I allowed my brain to run through a series of possibilities before I settled on a solution. Go and see Chang Nǚshì, she would know how to stop this annoyance.

“I had best leave.” I said to my two acq – **friends.** “I’d best not keep Chang Nǚshì waiting. Will you be needing my assistance? Shall I cover for Tempura again?”

“No, no! Not at the moment.” Brownie said, waving a hand at me. “I suppose my Master Attendant will have to do for now. But if you could stop by after seeing Miss Chang…”

I nodded, feeling rather proud of myself knowing that I had been able to guess his question before it had been spoken.

“I shall stop by. Take care of yourself until then.”

With that, I took my leave.

-

Chang Nǚshì was very kind to me, she was the first and only daughter of my original Master Attendant, and though my mind held no memories of her, she apparently had very clear memories of me, so clear that she had been brought to tears on occasion. 

I was fairly certain that I understood why. She had told me that I was the only link to her father she had left, that had to count for something.

Throughout five hundred and twenty one days, she had found me a replacement for my missing eye, fixed the persistent limp in my leg, smoothed out the dents in my bodywork and even offered to replace my patchwork wing membrane. However I had refused her last offer.

She had despaired.

“There’s no sense in keeping them like that! Look at them!” Chang Nǚshì had cried, her head shaking and her hands in the air. “They have been cobbled together! It’s the work of a complete amateur.”

“I would like to keep them as they are.” I had replied, using her native tongue to converse with her. Mandarin was a language that I apparently had stored within my databases, and speaking with Chang Nǚshì had brought it to the surface. “They are not pretty, but they are important to me.”

She was quite right, Nonna’s efforts were valiant, yet the result was not pretty. But I did not mind the way they looked, my wings worked and they worked because of Nonna. For as long as they continued to function, I would not replace them.

Today, Chang Nǚshì was in a bad mood, she insisted that it was nothing, but I could see a nerve pulsing at her temple as she poked and prodded about my bodywork. She inspected my eyes, my ears, every single joint she could find and the panel at my stomach that contained my soul power. Not an inch of me was left unchecked.

Chang Nǚshì shrugged a shoulder.

“Nothing wrong with you, B-52, everything about you is just as functional as the last time I saw you.” She removed a pair of small glasses from her face. “These aches may just be from the cold, you know. Everyone gets achy around this time of year. I know I sure do.”

I nodded to show that I had heard, and busied myself with doing up the buttons on my shirt, watching the panel at my stomach disappear beneath the fabric. It was a most troublesome affair, to have a body such as mine with all its many ‘crannies’ and ‘nooks’, one could hardly know where to look first for a source of discomfort. 

Chang Nǚshì had risen from her seat, and I could see her out of the corner of my working eye, fiddling with a series of papers atop her desk, one of them I knew to be my blueprints. How she and indeed my Master Attendant before her had managed to work with a body such as mine, a body so different to their own was a mystery to me. My memories of my Master Attendant were not clear, but I could remember how confident he had been when it came to my rather lengthy maintenance.

“Complex, why did I ever think to do this?” I could remember him saying, as he held my hand in between both of his, tightening this and oiling that. “Look at you, great machine that you are…”

“What’s that?” Chang Nǚshì’s voice suddenly sounded, a voice that was joined by a hand at the breast pocket of my shirt. My reflexes were quick; they had been _designed_ to be quicker than a human’s, and yet somehow I was powerless to stop Chang Nǚshì from getting what she wanted.

I furrowed my brow into what Pudding called a “scowl,” which deepened when I realised what had been taken from me. In her hand, Chang Nǚshì held a letter, it was one that she and I had read over before, only this one was brand new, this one was the _third_ I had received. I glared at it, wishing my gaze were intense enough to burn it to a crisp, so that not even the silly seal would remain in tact. Stupid… Silly… So troublesome.

“This is the third letter you’ve received from the Guild, B-52.” Chang Nǚshì was sighing, opening the envelope with some sharp instrument she kept at her desk. “Dunno why you’re ignoring them. They think you’re more than capable of working with them and of being a leader! Who knows how many opportunities could come your way.”

“I am not interested.” I said bluntly, remembering what the Guild’s messenger had said to me upon handing me my very first letter; something about joining ranks; being the _best that I could be._ Bah. Yobany… Yoban…

_What was that thing Nonna had said?_

Chang Nǚshì was speaking again.

“Think you’ll regret it if you keep on ignoring them, you’re missing out! You and every other Food Soul around these parts operates on behalf of the Guild nowadays, this position they’re offering will just be higher up. They could really use your skills, and you could learn new ones! It’s no surprise that they’re asking, just think about to the way you beat back the…”

“I do not wish to be used.” I grumbled, swallowing down some other, low rumble as a sharp flicker of intense discomfort passed through my chest. Just the cold, that was all it could be.

Chang Nǚshì was unfolding the letter, and despite my continued scowl, she scanned through its contents, making a strange, clicking vocalisation with her tongue. “Look at what they’re offering, you’d be working directly with them! They’ve seen what you can do, B-52, they’ve seen how you fight! Why on Tierra do you keep turning this down?” 

Suddenly, the letter was right under my nose, the paper flashed brilliantly white against the gloom of Chang Nǚshì’s workroom. The contrast made me squint and grumble some more.

“And for goodness’ sake, we have _talked_ about their proposition,” she continued, “they do not wish to use you in the same way that thieving _scum_ used you, what they mean – what they want – is for you to operate as part of their team, as a unit! The work you would be doing with them is similar, if not identical to the work you’re doing now, you’ll just be in a position of management, nothing more, nothing less.”

I was greatly displeased. Why wasn’t my refusal enough for her? I poked the tip of a finger towards the signature at the bottom of the letter, wondering if maybe I could tear the paper…

“I do not wish to be used by _her.”_ I said, a little triumphantly, as I was sure that this would shake off Chang Nǚshì. “The Olivia woman. The one who cast such a shadow across Nonna’s time at the…”

“Oh, God! There you go again.” Chang Nǚshì sighed, her voice was completely unsympathetic and left me numb with surprise. Why did she sound like that? This was not how this conversation was meant to go! She continued on, her hands held above her head in an oddly dismissive display. “Always using that silly woman as an excuse, you do it all the time. _I cannot do this because of Nonna; I refuse to try this because of Nonna._ Nonna this, Nonna that! It’s ridiculous, B-52, this fascination is doing nothing but holding you back.”

A silence came after that, I didn’t like it at all, it was so complete that I could hear the world around me; everything enhanced and so _obvious_ to me that I had to fight back the urge to _growl._

I could feel something in my chest, a bubbling just beneath the surface, a terribly hot ball of frustration that twisted and knotted itself around my internal workings, clogging the gears, blocking up the pipes, making everything twice as hard to process. I clenched both of my hands into tight fists, but the heat within me refused to cool, and bit by bit the temperature grew until it completely boiled over.

“Nonna told me to make my own decisions!” I barked out. “I have decided not to allow this _Guild_ to use me! Why can’t that be enough fo…”

I froze, as every inch of my body had suddenly shot into a state of high alert. There was a rumbling beneath my feet, something so quiet and so faint that I knew Chang Nǚshì would be oblivious to it, but _I_ felt it just fine… It was a disturbing sensation, a short and sharp burst somewhere deep down below, beneath the water, it was a _shiver!_ A shiver from the cold…

Chang Nǚshì was not pleased with me.

“Have you finished, B-52?” She asked coolly, and I could see that she was drumming her fingers lightly against her thigh. “I’m not particularly interested in having a shouting match with you. You’d probably beat me. Disregard the Guild’s offer if you must, but I really do think you’re being foolish.”

I didn’t reply, my mind was far away… It was many, many metres below us, submerged in the cold waters of Gloriville’s port. Was it cold enough to trigger emergence? Was this to be the second time?

“B-52?”

I could remember hauling myself through the crowds and towards the beast on that evening, five hundred and twenty one days ago. It had slipped into the port’s waters like a snake, and had wasted no time in destroying everything it could see. In its movements and in its cries, I could still see and hear a Food Soul, one so twisted and tangled up within his own vices that he did not know who he was, what to do, where to turn… He couldn’t even _speak._

I found myself thinking back…

He had needed rest, he had needed the assault I had rained upon him. It had put him to sleep then, and it had put him to sleep once again when the chill of winter had angered him…

“B-52!”

Even if Gloriville’s waters were currently uninhabitable for anything _but_ him.

Oh. There was a hand waving in front of my face. I blinked rapidly, both eyes following Chang Nǚshì’s hand as it sailed back and forth. Was she testing my vision again? She had mentioned that I needed to exercise both of my eyes, or else the new one could get stuck. 

That rumble came again, but I ignored it, I knew what to do with the information I had received… It was information I did not wish to process, information that needed to be put away, but I couldn’t think about putting it away for too long, it would be dangerous… I had to will it away, wash it out within a huge breath that I pulled through my synthetic lungs, in and then out. In and then out, in…

“Have you frozen again? Do I need to reboot you?”

Out…

“No.” I said quickly to Chang Nǚshì. “Everything is functional. You do not need to worry about anything.”

She was giving me a look, a look that I had trouble recognising. Chang Nǚshì was a woman who I knew well by now, but even with our history, her face was suddenly unreadable. 

“I do worry.” Chang Nǚshì mumbled, sitting back in her chair. “Everybody worries, especially now that the… Hmph.”

She waved her hand at me, it was the same wave Brownie had given me, it meant goodbye.

“You’re fine, B-52. Keep yourself warm, and those aches should go away. I need to get back to work, and so do you I dare say.”

I did as she suggested. I had to work today after all. Work kept Gloriville going, work kept the world going.

Even if mine was a little emptier than it had been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day five hundred and twenty one since Nonna’s departure.

There was a new shop that had opened up along one of Gloriville’s tiny back alleys. 

Some people insisted that it had always been there, and that the owner had returned after a long hiatus. Others swore to their acquaintances that it had appeared out of nowhere, and some kept away from it as a result.

As for me and my simple taste, I rather liked the shop. It was a dark, roomy, yet cosy space lined with shelves, each one crammed with dusty bottles of alcoholic substance. Its owner was the complete opposite of the gloom her shop gave off; she was tall and pale skinned, pale haired, pale eyed… She was pale, there was not much else I could think of to describe her with, which I did to Napoleon Cake that morning, and wondered aloud how and why such a woman had come to Gloriville in such dangerous times.

Napoleon – as usual – knew everything.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious why she’s suddenly popped up like that, Bifty.” He said to me, once again speaking around some sweetmeat he had stuffed into his mouth. “She’s a Vodka! Her line likes the cold – and when I say cold I mean **cold** cold.”

He swallowed noisily and messily, but I was not quite ready to leave him to enjoy his snack in peace. I had another question. 

“Does she think I know her? Whenever I pass her shop she waves to me, and she smiles too. She has quite a lot of teeth.”

“So do you, big guy.” Napoleon chortled, prodding a finger into the plush, synthetic skin of my cheek; I grunted at him in displeasure. “Maybe you two have crossed paths! The Gods only know, though I can see why she’d have a hard time forgetting you, you’re not exactly easy to miss in a crowd, eh?”

“Oh, Napoleon Cake!” Brownie cried beside us, shaking his head, so vigorously that his hat was almost knocked off. “Do stop _poking_ him like that, and stop lying around on the job. The Enhanced Fallen could…”

I watched with interest as Brownie too received a poke to the cheek from Napoleon’s sticky fingers, but he never had the time to cry out, as a commotion at the very centre the dock distracted us all. I followed the source of the noise with my eyes, but as soon as I realised what and who was the cause of the disturbance. I felt my top lip automatically curling, it was actually rather alarming, had I always been able to do that?

“Great.” Napoleon sighed, sitting up from his slumped position and retrieving his musket from its holster. “Olivia and her band of merry men. What do you reckon she’s gonna order us to dive down into the port and scrape the barnacles off of the Fallen?”

Brownie groaned, he sounded as if he were genuinely in pain.

“Napoleon, _please,_ show some respect!”

Olivia had indeed come with a band of merry men, the Guild officials who surrounded her looked surly and bad tempered, all wrapped up in big coats and big scarves. They reminded me of the rolls Chang Nǚshì sometimes made, all tightly packed and straight backed, the comparison I had made almost made me smile, but after seeing Olivia’s face – the surliest and bad tempered of them all – I decided against it.

As much as I disliked this visit, it was necessary; Olivia and the rest of the Guild officials would routinely inspect the docks and the Food Souls positioned here, all for the purpose of making sure we would be ready for battle if necessary. The Enhanced Fallen formerly known as Peking Duck had an intense hatred for the cold, and the formation Olivia had sorted myself and my fellow Food Souls into was supposed to be the best in case of sudden emergence.

For whatever reason, she had placed myself, Napoleon Cake and Brownie at the very back of the dock, something that I had always found strange. Though I did not like to ‘toot my horn’ – an expression someone had once said to me – but I had subdued the Enhanced Fallen formerly known as Peking Duck before, and was therefore confused as to why we had been set so far back.

I had tried to ask, but Olivia never had the time to listen, or so she said.

After a tiresome pattern of stopping to talk, stopping to talk, stopping to talk, Olivia alone finally reached our makeshift station, leaving her group behind to huddle together and talk in amongst themselves. Like always, she cast our formation a scathing look before pausing to take a few notes in a _silly_ book she always carried around. I was reminded suddenly of the _silly_ signature scrawled at the bottom of the letters I had been receiving, and moulded my face into a scowl. I could feel Napoleon’s body quivering and jittering beside me and almost immediately came to the conclusion that he was dying to say something to the woman, but like always Olivia chose to address Brownie rather than myself or Napoleon.

“You are supposed to have a Tempura here with you, Brownie,” she sighed with an odd, rough edge to her voice, “have you any idea where he is?”

Brownie’s own voice was strange when he replied, but it was a strangeness I knew, he liked to put on a show for the officials, a very professional show.

“I am afraid not, Madam Olivia, he failed to arrive for his shift one morning and has not been seen since. However, he does this regularly, I shouldn’t imagine he will be gone for...”

“Nevertheless, that leaves you one man down.” Olivia interrupted him, something that caused my scowl to deepen, I hoped that she would see my face and perhaps cower away like so many humans had done before her, but she only had eyes for that _silly_ notebook. “I’ll ask around, see if there are any Attendants willing to part with a Tempura, they are good units, you need backup here.”

“With all due respect, Madam,” Napoleon cried beside me, “we have Bif – B-52 here, he’s all the backup we need! He’s…”

“Reluctant to listen to authority and attacks in an unpredictable, scatter-brained manner.” Olivia once again interrupted, not even bothering to look up at Napoleon as she spoke. “In any case, in a situation like this, you will need a Defence Soul, Napoleon Cake. B-52 Cocktail has the firepower, but…”

“Please look at me when you speak about me.” I said, making sure that I cut _her_ off this time. Immediately I suffered two sharp jabs in the ribs on either side from both Napoleon and Brownie, but I barely registered the discomfort. Olivia was finally looking at me, but her expression was twisted into a scowl not unlike my own, I knew that she was now waiting for me to retract what I had said, but I had no intention of giving her the satisfaction, in fact I hadn’t finished talking yet.

“Madam Olivia, I humbly request that you stop sending me letters asking for my assistance within the Guild.” I said simply, remembering to fold my arms as I spoke; apparently it made one appear to mean business. There was a series of strange hisses from beside me, as Napoleon and Brownie attempted to persuade me away from speaking to Olivia, but I ignored them. “I do not appreciate being called scatter-brained, name calling is childish. I also am having trouble understanding why you are so dismissive of me here, yet in your letters…”

“What on Tierra are you talking about, Cocktail?” Olivia’s voice once _again_ cut through my own words. “’Letters’? What letters? I haven’t sent you a single letter, nor has anyone else in the Guild. I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to…”

She stopped suddenly, as if somebody had slapped a hand over her mouth, but nobody was around to commit such an act. She turned her head back towards her group, her knuckles turning white as she held on to her silly little notebook. I had no idea why this change had come about, but before I even had the chance to ask, Olivia had turned back to me, and she was stuffing her notebook into her pocket.

“I see. Well, B-52 Cocktail, I can most definitely say that nobody with any sense within the Guild requires your services. Kindly disregard any other letters that come your way, and know that _I_ am certainly not the one sending them to you. Carry on with your duties here as instructed, and Napoleon Cake, for Goodness’ sake, do not keep or eat sticky foods around your weaponry. That really should be common sense to a soldier such as yourself.”

She walked away, leaving both Napoleon and I with our jaws clenched, and Brownie anxiously twisting the hem of his uniform in his hands until the hems began to fray.

Later on in the day, I saw Olivia standing a little way away from our station. She had her back to us and was engrossed in deep yet quiet conversation with another woman – one who I had seen at the docks a few times before – who was even more bundled up than the rest of the entourage had been. The only things about her that were visible to me were her thin mouth and watery eyes, which stared blankly up into Olivia’s, unblinking and unfeeling. She didn’t seem to be saying much to defend herself from whatever tirade Olivia was on this time.

For some reason inexplicable to me, that woman and the look she had in her dull eyes stirred something in me. Something far, far deeper than I was comfortable with.

-

Tempura and I had previously shared the duty of patrolling Gloriville’s streets at night, but I had been a lone wolf since his disappearance – or at least that was how Pudding had described it. The Magic Soul was very annoyed about the whole situation, but as everyone in Gloriville kept saying and as _he_ had said.

“What can we do?”

What _I_ could do was very simple. I could continue on protecting the humans who had chosen to remain in Gloriville, even if their decision seemed incredibly foolish to me. But there was a small section of me that almost understood why they refused to abandon their homes; that section sat like a heavy stone, right next to other two weights. One, that could see Tempura’s reasoning for running away, and a smaller and more painful second; which was my memory of Nonna, and my bitter understanding of why _she_ had chosen to leave. 

Did this vague and bothersome feeling have a name?

I stalked, bad-tempered, through Gloriville’s tiny alleyways, swinging my cane at my hip, trying to focus on the rhythm of back and forth, back and forth in the hope that it would calm me, but I had no such luck. The cold and the wind were particularly troublesome tonight, the pair blew at me rudely, stiffening the joints in my neck, and as my walk continued on, my face steadily grew sourer and sourer.

A sharp and high-pitched series of chattering and growling suddenly sounded in my ears, it was awfully faint, but its source could not hide from me for long. I glanced above me to the towering roofs of the houses either side of me and spotted my target in mere seconds. Then another, and another, and more appeared to be coming. Their kind had been on the rise ever since the appearance of the Enhanced Fallen formerly known as Peking Duck, and they had become a common sight to me on these evening patrols.

They too were Fallen of course, though they were tiny and squat and _fast._ This particular breed moved in packs of ten or more, a number that could easily kill a human if they all severed enough arteries with their jagged teeth. They perched clumsily on the edges of rooftops and lampposts, and some hid in the shadows of porches, mean and fat little things that closely resembled Aves, chattering away to each other as I passed them. I knew their behaviour well, and at this point I found them to be more of an annoyance than a legitimate threat, but I knew that humans lived along this street, and therefore these Fallen had to go.

I drew my weapon, flexing my fingers just right so that it would activate with a few, metallic clicks. Unfortunately this sound appeared to act as a trigger for the little terrors; they swarmed suddenly and speedily down from their perches and into the street, their mouths wide open. I grunted in annoyance, kicking away the first few easily while batting a few more back with a great swipe of my left wing. My weapon had not yet powered up sufficiently enough to deal proper damage, but I could manage without it for now, these Fallen were…

“Ah.”

I turned in surprise, for a sudden and sharp sensation at the side of my neck had alerted me. Somehow, infuriatingly, one of the little creatures had managed to scamper up my back and sink its needle sharp teeth into my without me noticing. I stiffened momentarily, before I wrenched it away from me with a grunt of anger, I held it aloft before me and squeezed its round little body between my fingers, watching as it struggled viciously and flapped its tiny wings, seeking escape.

Breathing heavily, I brought up my weapon again, now fully activated and ready to set this _whole_ alleyway ablaze, it would serve as something to think about, as something to take my mind off of the tingling the Fallen’s teeth had left behind, a tingling that was _too_ close to the two dents imbedded in my neck; Nonna’s bullets.

“Don’t you touch those.” I growled to the writhing little beast, vaguely aware of its cronies clawing at my legs, snapping their teeth at me; they were hungry, _very_ hungry. Were they seeking out what little flesh I had? 

Around me, the alleyway was somehow growing darker and the sounds of the night suddenly dimmed, even the chatter of the Ave-like Fallen at my feet was muffled, blocked out by a strange ringing that had begun to fill my ears. There was something horrible moving about in my chest too, something that felt similar to the claws of the Fallen digging into my legs, but this was deeper, much deeper. _This_ was tearing at me, tearing at the inner workings of my chest cavity, popping springs, blocking servos, bending everything the _wrong_ way.

I shook my head vigorously; I had to focus on destroying these Fallen, but the feeling was growing stronger, and the discomfort at my neck was behaving similarly. The Fallen in my hand had stopped its bothersome wriggling, but the look on its face was so familiar, it was almost human; it appeared to grin at me, showing rows of sharp teeth. Mocking… It was _mocking_ me, it was mocking my struggle!

“Stop… Stop it…”

Then, somewhere in the darkness, a pale hand reached out towards me, a pale hand with pale nails, and a pale wrist in a pale sleeve. The world came back to me with a shudder, and when it did there was a woman standing before me, the woman who had opened up the shop, the _Vodka._

She smiled at me pleasantly, showing far too many teeth, as if she could not see the hoards of Fallen running about her even though several of them had already bitten at her calves and ankles. For whatever reason, it looked as if their teeth could not make an impact on her flesh, though they stubbornly gnawed away to no avail, their eyes bulging with fury. Finally she cast them a weary glance, before resuming that charming smile, one that I couldn’t return given the current and unfortunate circumstances.

“Why don’t I help you with these little nuisances, B-52?” She asked simply, in an accent similar to Nonna’s. “Give me your dominant hand. We can hold your cane together, let me show you something, hm?”

I was utterly bewildered, and normally I would have shrugged the woman off, insisting that assistance was not required; but her ice-cold fingers had already curled around mine, and a surge of intensity that I knew to be Soul Power began to flow through our interlocked hands.

The flames sparking from the tip of my cane had died down due to my distraction, but at the Soul Power given to me by the Vodka, it suddenly sprang back to life, whirring and sparking with an alarming ferocity that I had not seen from it before. Its flames burst forth and exploded into the night air, but the usual rush of heat that came with the attack was absent, replaced instead by a surge of icy wind, a wind which – as it struck the flames – transformed them instantly into sharp, glittering shards of ice. I watched in some dazed, confused state as those shards pelted down towards the Fallen, piercing their skin, drawing jarring high-pitched screeches of pain from them.  
The scene was an utter massacre, every tiny shard acted like it had a mind of its own, each one swirled and whirled about, embedding itself into every heat source it could find, reducing each target’s physical form to nothing. The hybrid blizzard of flame and ice raged on, the shards completely missing the Vodka and I, darting around the pair of us as if we were not even present, until every single one of the Ave-like Fallen had been eliminated. 

I stood still dazed, my ears picking up dozens of tiny, musical clinks of the last few shards falling to the ground, unneeded and useless now that each target had been dealt with. They lay in small piles around the alleyway, glittering in the light of the moon, shimmering green at some angles, purple at others. The sight and the events that had occurred were all deeply strange to me.

I pulled my hand and my cane away from the Vodka, laying the weapon across my palms so I could scan it carefully. Nothing about it had changed and her Soul Power appeared not to have damaged it in any way, Magic Souls were incredibly versatile, but the fact that they could alter a weapon such as mine in the way she had done was _unheard_ of, wasn’t it? I flicked my eyes up slightly so that I could study the Vodka’s expression, but found that I was unable to read her, all she did was stand and smile as if she were truly a woman carved out of ice, her hands clasped before her and her back poker straight. She looked as if she were standing to attention, though there was no one around to have given her such an order. 

I arranged my face into a frown, I wanted answers.

“What did you do to my weapon?” I demanded, my tone gravelly and annoyed.

She looked surprised, or at least I thought she did, her fine eyebrows became raised and her glossy lips pressed into a thin line. Was that surprise or anger? Why would she be angry? She was the one who had stepped out of nowhere, uninvited.

“I boosted its ability by adding my Soul Power to it,” the Vodka replied, and her tone suggested to me that she had expected me to _know_ what had just happened, “it isn’t an uncommon practice amongst us Food Souls, I saw that those little pests were giving you trouble, so I decided to step in, give you a little backup, you know?”

She was frowning now, had she decided to mimic me? That would certainly be a first.

“Why are you so hostile? Do you not recognise me, B-52?”

Something _jerked_ in my throat, like someone had grabbed a fistful of the delicate wiring surrounding my vocal chords and tugged _hard._ It left a horrid ache behind, and I swallowed thickly in an attempt to dispel it.

“No.” I said shortly, sliding my deactivated weapon back into its holster. “I do not. Now, if you will excuse me, I must complete my rounds. I thank you for your assistance, but it was quite unnecessary, I have dealt with that sort of Fallen before and I am sure I will do so again.”

The Vodka drew herself up to her full height, and this time I had no trouble reading the look on her pale face. She was hurt, that was for sure, and a stiffening of her upper lip indicated anger, though why she had chosen to wear both of these reactions was a mystery to me, as was the ache still present in my throat. Why had these bothersome aches chosen to flare up now? Was it the cold? Chang Nǚshì had mentioned that the cold might be detrimental to my performance. 

Yes, the cold. That was all it was.

The Vodka sighed deeply, placing a hand upon her hip and tilting her head so she could call out into the night.

“Miss Li? The happy reunion I hoped to have has unfortunately been cancelled. You may come out now, if you wish.”

At her call, there came a series of clicking, a sharp jingle of what sounded like a bunch of keys being forced into a lock and the horrid creak of unoiled hinges being set into motion. I tilted my head in complete confusion as someone stepped clumsily out from a gloomy doorway directly behind the sour-faced Vodka. Whoever they were, their feet were clearly not prepared for the frosty cobbles of the street, and they stumbled and almost fell as they stepped down from their front door.

With a noise of concern, the Vodka stepped back to assist them, offering their arm so that the stranger could cling onto it with fumbling hands and a mumble of thanks. With the alcohol Soul’s help, they were able to step further towards me, and out of the gloom cast by the houses on either side of us. 

I stood very still, though my head was buzzing with confusion, I recognised _this_ woman, it was the same woman who had suffered through Olivia’s rant back at the docks. However, she was much closer to me now, close enough that could see that she did not look well at all. Not only were her eyes watery, but her face was thin and pinched, so much so that I could see her cheekbones poking out from underneath. I could hear a thin and painful rattle coming from somewhere in her chest, and it took me a moment or two to realise that I was listening to her _breathing._ The Vodka appeared to be almost carrying her over the cobbles, indicating that her ability to walk was also limited, which made me wonder how on Tierra she had accompanied Olivia’s entourage to the docks in the first place.

Now fully in my line of sight, the woman spoke a few words to the Vodka in a language that I couldn’t understand, but once her attention turned to me, she reverted to a tongue that I instantly recognised to be Mandarin. 

“Hello, B-52 Cocktail,” she greeted me in a voice that caused the ache in my throat to grow and creep up and up until even swallowing could not aid it, “heavens above, how you’ve changed. It’s a miracle! Why, the last time I saw you… Ten ah, no… Twelve years ago, you couldn’t even _speak.”_

There was something about this woman, there was _something_ about her that was causing me pain, so much that I could barely think. The ache had spread to my head now, smarting and throbbing dully, I could not even begin to fathom what had caused such horrid discomfort, in fact there had been a time where I would not have known what this sensation was. Should I have stayed that way? Should I have stayed ignorant? This was just _awful._ Was all of this worth feeling?

“Oh now…” The woman spoke again, kindly, gently, and she slowly began to move away from the Vodka, her wobbly hands extending out towards me. Was she hoping I would take them? “There’s no need to get upset, I’m not angry with you, poor thing, you poor dear thing.”

There was a strange burning in my eyes, a coolant leak perhaps? But it felt too hot to be that, it felt too foreign, it made me want to pull at the skin of my face, pull it away and rip out whatever was causing this _leak_ from my framework. This was frustrating, this was _embarrassing!_ This woman was everything I had tried to move away from, she was a reminder, a link to a time in my life and set of memories that lay somewhere out of my reach, those were memories that I did not want to revisit. I wouldn’t, they couldn’t make me!

The woman; ‘Miss Li,’ had moved to stand directly before me, her hands were warm when she laid them in mine, and though her grip was weak, it was somehow enough to clear my head. I released a difficult breath and fought to focus my attention solely on her face, for some unknown reason I felt as if I owed her that.

“I understand that this must be hard for you,” she said softly, “nobody understands that more than I, but I simply must speak with you. Gloriville is _counting_ on me, and on you.”

I said nothing, and my silence prompted her to speak again, this time with a note of mirth in her wispy little voice.

“Now then. Have you taken the time to think about the letters I have been sending you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy. B's having trouble remembering things? That's not good, especially since he kind of needs them at this point...
> 
> In any case, I am SO SORRY for the huge delay to this second chapter! I had a bit of a dip in inspiration, but I'm back on it now! I've got a much clearer outline for the story than I did, so hopefully there won't be this long of a wait again!
> 
> Thank you for reading as always!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. Long time no see!
> 
> I bet you weren't expecting the first chapter to be from B's perspective huh? AND I also bet you weren't expecting this to be set so long after Progress ended. Wellp, Gloriville is in a state, and everyone is trying to come to grips with it. But where's Nonna?
> 
> Man, who knows.


End file.
